


feel the daylight

by aideomai



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, PWP, Somnophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aideomai/pseuds/aideomai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick Grimshaw struggles with the trials and tribulations of fucking eighteen year olds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	feel the daylight

**Author's Note:**

> Haha oh god what has become of me. Thanks very much to oddishly for the amazing beta and for not laughing at me too hard. Also shameless plug I guess - I am aideomai on Tumblr too and if you like "Nick Grimshaw Is My Hero"-style shrieking you should come hang out with me and help me work out who the rest of the people in this fandom are.
> 
> Warning: this fic contains somnophilia and some sleepy scenes that could be read as dub-con. Avoid if that's not your cup of tea!

The trouble was the whole eighteen year old thing. Nick didn’t even mean that in the way everybody else probably meant it – it was just that sex was turning out to be more complicated than he’d expected. Harry managed to be on a hair trigger and fucking inexhaustible, and Nick had a brand new job being the voice of British mornings, and it was all adding up to not a lot of sleep at all.

It was simple enough, he decided darkly one morning when his alarm woke him up after not enough sleep and he found he’d fucking stuck to the sheets again last night because Harry Styles was undeniable. The real problem was that Harry was _selfish_.

He eyed Harry sideways. He was fast asleep curled on his side, cheeks all pink and hair adorably mussed. It wasn’t fair, it made Nick feel very self-conscious to wake up next to a pop star, even one who somehow after the whole Come On, Nick, Surely You’re Not Too Old For A Third Time debacle of last night _still_ had morning wood. It was unfortunate just how well Harry knew Nick’s weak spots by now.

It was early yet. Nick was getting better at this whole morning show host thing.

“Harry,” he murmured, kissing Harry’s neck. “Hello, wake up, come on, over you go.” He rolled Harry over onto his stomach, stretching him out via a hand curled around Harry’s wrist, tugging him up and getting him to sprawl against the sheets, all long and lovely. Nick yawned, and then shook his head, waking himself up by pushing the blankets back, baring their bodies to the cool air.

Harry grumbled, but then settled down again when Nick climbed on top of him, lying fitted against Harry’s back and kissing at his cheek, his jaw, wherever he could reach.

“Mrgh,” Harry said, pliable enough but decidedly grumpy about the implication that he’d have to wake up. Nick settled in against him and scraped his teeth against Harry’s neck, pushing sweaty curls out of the way. He pressed his knees against each side of Harry’s slips, keeping Harry still beneath him, all too pleased with the way Harry moved to fit better without coming any closer to waking up.

“Come on,” he said, low and coaxing. “Up you go, love, come on now.” Harry lifted his hips enough for Nick to slip an arm around his waist, hauling him up higher and wrapping a hand around Harry’s cock. Harry made a muzzy, curious noise, pushing back instinctively against Nick, all eager even while mostly asleep.

Nick offered his fingers to Harry to suck. Harry nosed blindly at his palm. He licked and sucked at Nick’s fingers in a concentrated sort of way, the slick pressure drawing pleased, rough sounds out of Nick as he nudged his dick up against Harry’s arse.

Harry yawned, so wide his jaw cracked, not bothering to spit out Nick’s fingers. “What’s the time?” he grumbled.

“Four-thirty,” Nick said, reaching for a condom and enough lube to slick his dick up.

“That’s foul,” Harry said, then slipped down on his elbows when Nick teased one finger at his entrance, testing more for a reaction that anything else. Harry moaned, pushing his hips back, but his head was against the pillow now, which was dangerous.

Nick squinted down at him. Harry’s eyelashes were fluttering closed, and not in the sexy way, or not in the specifically sexy way, anyway.

“Harold,” he said.

Harry murmured something against the pillow, and Nick gave up being friendly. Harry was still stretched from last night, at least a little, his hole still pink and slick looking, never mind what _that_ was doing to Nick’s hard-on. He pulled Harry up again, firmly, hands on Harry’s inner thighs, spreading him and then guiding himself in.

Harry’s head shot up from the pillow.

“Ah,” Nick said, pushing in slow and steady until he was pressed all the way inside. He let his chin drop for a moment, hair falling in his eyes, panting.

“God,” Harry said, sounding dazed. “I – Nick—”

Nick didn’t bother answering him. He had fifteen minutes before he had to get in the shower, and he didn’t intend to waste them. He let his hands slide back up to Harry’s hips, fucking into him nice and steady.

It was too easy, like this in the morning, Harry’s body sleep-languid and hot and almost shaking underneath him. Harry had his arms folded on the pillow and his cheek resting on them, straining to blink back at Nick now and then. He looked confused and so fucking young, mouth red and hanging open in pleasure, eyelashes fluttering dark against his cheek.

“Nick,” Harry said again, and Nick leaned down to press his face against Harry’s back for a moment, licked at his shoulder blade. Harry was salty with sweat, Nick was truly disgusted with himself: he wanted to rub his nose against way too much of Harry, wanted to breathe him in, the smell of deodorant and boy and, very faintly still, too many hours spent in an airplane. He had an attention span of about three minutes at best, and Harry made him want to spend _hours_ taking his time. It was horrifying.

“No, come on,” Harry mumbled.

“What?”

“Fuck me—”

“Oh, I lost my concentration for one second, you little—” Nick began indignantly, but was cut off by the way Harry moaned, pushing back against Nick. He was waking up a little more now, peering back at Nick, biting his bottom lip. Nick wondered if he did that on purpose knowing that it made Nick fuck into him harder, wanting to make him _feel_ it. He suspected so.

Harry had shifted one arm, too, had it twisted around under his stomach, hand working over himself. Nick narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t close yet, wanted more of this, stretching on an early morning fuck to keep him content for the rest of the day. “Hey, greedy,” he said. “You’re not going to—”

“Ah, fuck,” Harry said, body hunching around slightly, fucking himself back on Nick erratically. He’d come _three times_ last night, Nick thought in disbelief, how could this be happening to Nick again, and it was all over Nick’s sheets _again_. At least Nick wasn’t going back to sleep this time.

Harry slumped against the sheets, shivering, clenching tight and spasming around Nick.

“Ah, god,” he said.

“I cannot believe you,” Nick said. 

Harry turned his head, smiled sheepishly back at Nick. “Pull out and I’ll jerk you off before you go,” he offered, but he was looking drowsy and languid again, eyelids drooping. Nick didn’t trust him even a bit, the little minx.

Nick considered, and then stroked at Harry’s back, and didn’t pull out. “No.”

Harry paused. “What?”

Nick leaned down and kissed Harry’s back. “Manners, love,” he said, and thrust in hard. Harry made a high, breathless noise, and Nick didn’t let up, snapping his hips against Harry as fast and hard as he wanted, while Harry lay trembling and near boneless beneath him. 

“God,” Nick said, choked. 

Harry moaned, face buried against the sheets and arse thrust back high. The sheer _sound_ of it was obscene, and Harry was too tight, Nick really hadn’t stretched him properly. He was going to be in a fucking haze for at least the first hour of the show but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now, leaning over Harry and taking him exactly as hard as he wanted. 

“See how you – like it when other people are selfish?” Nick demanded, breathless.

“It’s too – too much, Grimmy,” Harry said, rough and needy, and then he reached back, groping blindly, until his hand landed on Nick’s, curling around his fingers. Nick was still holding Harry’s hips in his grip, and he almost froze, heart momentarily going funny and wobbly with tenderness.

After a moment, he turned that hand towards Harry’s, tangled their fingers together. Harry’s cheek was pressed against the pillow, hair falling over his face; Nick could just see the sweet, compulsive smile his mouth twitched up into.

It turned out that sentiment was all he needed to finish. That was a truly embarrassing realisation.

He slumped on top of Harry, trying to catch his breath, before his legs started to cramp up. He pulled out, palming Harry’s hip gently, and flopped over onto his back.

They lay quiet.

“Mmf,” Harry said, lifting his head and crawling half on top of Nick, butting his head against Nick’s shoulder. “That was fun. You should do that again, but this time—”

“You’re a monster,” Nick said faintly.

Harry grinned down at him, eyes bright and mouth red like a rumpled well-fucked elf or something awful like that. “You should go shower before work.”

“Yes,” Nick said faintly, although it took him a little while to force himself out of bed. Harry was warm and slumped against him, and when Nick tilted his head down Harry kissed him, quick warm little presses of his mouth, seemingly endlessly generous now. That would be right. Nick squinted down at Harry’s messy curls and thought that surely Britain would understand if he gave into temptation and just didn’t move.

“All right,” he said, and got out of bed.

When he came back from his shower, Harry was fast asleep again, practically _flaunting_ his sleep in, but Nick hadn’t really expected anything different.


End file.
